Hospital Revival
by Fizzie-lizzie
Summary: There's an accident, and guess who lost their memory? (plan on there being more than one chap, but I'm not taking this one too seriously.)
1. OooOOOooO Boogay monstah iss behind yah!

Disclaimer: you know the usual.  
  
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Mia sat on the bench in central park staring into the dark sky. Sometimes she really wished that she didn't live in the city, it'd be nice for once to be able to see the stars, with out a trace of smog in the sky.  
  
Lars sat still next to her, but stood to move back when a familiar shape came jogging up to them. None other than Michael Moscovitz.  
  
"Hey, Mia," he said grinning at her. He was slightly out of breath as he plopped down on to the wooden bench next to her. He put an arm around her shoulders and apologized for being late.  
  
"It's okay Michael," Mia said content just to put her head on his shoulder.  
  
"Good," he replied, and promptly yanked her hair.  
  
She yelled out in pain. "What was that for?" she asked rubbing her head.  
  
"I want to eat your brains!" he shouted. Michael's skin started to peel off, revealing a new layer that looked a lot like a pickle. Until his head- skin peeled, and that's when he looked like a rubber chicken massacre gone wrong.  
  
She screamed, Lars quickly stepped in front of her. "Stay close, princess," he instructed. "There might be others."  
  
Mia grabbed the back of Lars' business coat tentatively, ready to sprint at a moment's notice. He quickly whipped out a gun and prepared to shoot.  
  
"Michael," he said warningly, as what was formerly Michael took a step forward.  
  
"What?" the blob of disgusting mass asked. "You never wondered what it would be like to eat a Princess's brain?"  
  
"No," Lars said. "One taste of the dowager was enough. Its disgusting. Stick to the normal people. Besides, when you came to this planet, you signed a contract to leave figure heads alone."  
  
"Screw that," Michael said. He did something Mia thought might've been the equivalent of licking his lips. She vomited.  
  
"Come on Lars, that old hag is much to tough, and ... bitter," he said laughing a little at his own joke. Lars chuckled slightly. "Just help me get a taste of a younger royal."  
  
After a moment's consideration, Lars answered. "Alright," he said. "But we better make it quick, we're starting to attract attention."  
  
Mia tried to run but Lars through her to the ground, and pinned her. Michael slouched nearby and petted her head.  
  
"My own sweet princess," his voice had become raspy, unfamiliar.  
  
She screamed again.  
  
"Mia, calm down. Mia!" someone with Michael's old voice said. It was sweet, smooth, the way it should be.  
  
Mia, with eyes clamped shut, tried to wriggle her way out of Lars' grasp, but he held her firmly down.  
  
"Mia! Wake up!" the voice shouted at her. She opened her eyes and looked around.  
  
Michael sat on the edge of her bed, showing obvious signs of worry, and looking as though he hadn't slept for days.  
  
The room itself was pristinely white, the chairs, the walls, the clock, the phone. Everything was white. It was almost too bright to bear. She covered her eyes against it.  
  
"Michael, where am I?" she asked. This wasn't her room, or even any room she recognized.  
  
"You're at a hospital in Genovia, Mia. Don't you remember anything?" he asked worriedly.  
  
"Genovia? Where's Genovia?"  
  
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I was in a bit of a goofy mood when I wrote this. Don't worry there will be more!! (Not that anyone will probably want more... but hey, something different right?) 


	2. Do a little dance! Make a little love! g...

Disclaimer: lalala I don't own any of the characters!!! Lala!  
  
A/N: If you didn't figure it out by the way the first chapter is written... this isn't meant to be taken seriously by me. (as it said in the summary if you read that.) If you see an update (with the exception of this chapter) in this story... it is because I was working on R/J Fiasco, and got stuck. That's all this story is for me, a goofy way to get around writer's block.  
  
I'll edit it, I'll proof-read it, but not as thoroughly as I try for R/J and one-shots...  
  
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"You're at a hospital in Genovia, Mia. Don't you remember anything?" he asked worriedly.  
  
"Genovia? Where's Genovia?"  
  
Michael stared at her. "Mia, you're kidding right?" he asked, unwilling to believe her.  
  
"No, really, where's Genovia?"  
  
Prince Phillippe charged into the room that minute, a crazed look on his face, recent botax injections-gone-wrong really didn't help his appearance. He relaxed when he saw Mia was conscious. (Well, relaxed as much as someone with a botax stricken face can.)  
  
"I came as soon as I could," he said. "There was flooding in Timtookmybucktoo, so there were no planes that were willing to try to take off, and no boats willing to risk the flood," he explained.  
  
Mia looked at him blankly. Michael watched her expressions carefully, a clenching feeling came to his stomach. He really shouldn't have eaten those Spanish beans earlier.  
  
"O-okay," she said slowly. "Um, thank you."  
  
Phillippe smiled at her warmly, probably the first time he'd done that in Mia's life. Unfortunately, she didn't remember it that way. "Who are you?" were the next words that came out of her mouth.  
  
He froze like a hotdog tossed into blizzard-y Antarctica weather, and than turned quickly to Michael. "How long has she been out of the coma?"  
  
"She woke up, screaming a few minutes before you came," Michael said trying to remain calm.  
  
"Mia," her father said slowly. "Why were you screaming?"  
  
She looked nervously at the man looming over her. Glancing at Michael, she saw that he was twisting a piece of her bed sheet in his hand anxiously. She placed a hand over his, and smiled at him. He tried to smile back.  
  
"Why were you screaming?" Phillippe asked again.  
  
Mia didn't want to answer him, embarrassed about the possibility of relating her strange dream to this strange, strange balding man.  
  
"Sir," Michael said respectfully. "She was probably traumatized by the accident and reliving it."  
  
"I know that, boy!" he shouted at Michael. "I know that," Phillippe tried to say more calmly. "She doesn't even recognize me. But she recognizes you." He spat the old, tasteless winter fresh gum that was loitering in his mouth at Michael before leaving the room.  
  
[a/n: I originally edited this out, and than decided, eh? Why not?]  
  
Michael looked at the gum, tempted. He picked it off his sleeve and put it in his mouth. "Mmm," he said. "Beefy."  
  
"Who was that?" Mia asked after Phillippe left slamming the door.  
  
"That was your father..."  
  
"That? That monster was my father?" Mia asked incredulously.  
  
"Afraid so," Michael said, relaxed. If nothing else, at least his girlfriend's sense of humor was still intact. And even if she lost her memory about everything else, she seemed to at least remember him.  
  
"Why am I in the hospital?" she asked, a little too cheerfully.  
  
"You were in a boating accident with your grandmother, and Lars."  
  
"Lars?" she asked. "But he's not real, he was in my dream."  
  
"Your dream?" Michael inquired, hoping to pry a little information out of her.  
  
"Yeah, and you were in it too. I was supposed to meet you in Central Park for a date, and this guy Lars came with me, its like he knew I would need protecting, or something. Anyway, you came up, and suddenly tried to eat my brains or something disgusting, and you convinced this guy, Lars, to help you. And so I screamed. That's when you woke me up." She left out the part where Lars called her Princess, that was just an embarrassing fantasy of hers, her boyfriend surely didn't need to know about that.  
  
"Oh," Michael said thinking for a minute. "Lars is real, Mia."  
  
"He is?"  
  
"Yes, he's your bodyguard."  
  
"My what?"  
  
"Your bodygau-" Michael didn't finish. The doors to Mia's room came crashing open as her mother Helen, and her step dad came into the room.  
  
"Mom! Dad!" she cried out happily. They stopped and a peculiar look came across their faces. It must have been due to the aroma that came wafting to their noses. Thank you, Michael, for cutting the cheese.  
  
"Oh Mia, honey, Frank isn't your father. Phillippe is." Helen gave her daughter a hug. "And he took his sweet time before telling us that you were finally awake," she said a little harshly.  
  
"Can't we just pretend that Frank is my father?" Mia asked hopefully.  
  
Frank smiled at her gratefully, and squeezed her hand. "Sorry, Mia, but I don't think Phillippe would be so willing to give up his only heir."  
  
"Oh, well, that's not a problem," Mia said brightly. "He doesn't have an hair anyway." [a/n couldn't resist....]  
  
Helen smiled wanly. "No, Mia, you're his heir to the throne?"  
  
"What throne? His waxed corvette? And don't tell me he doesn't have one, all men, that age, with that wanna-be-playboy look, have corvettes. They buy the corvettes as a way of subconsciously compensating for everything they don't have."  
  
Michael rolled his eyes, this was a speech he'd heard often enough from Lilly.  
  
"Um... He's the prince of Genovia." Michael said.  
  
"He's a prince? No wonder he's got the whole power trip going on."  
  
"Mia! He's your father!" Helen was getting frustrated, she had some perfectly good ice cream that was waiting for her in the cafeteria of the hospital. And because her daughter couldn't seem to get it through her dense head.... Well, even rocky road isn't as appealing when its melted and looking like mud.  
  
"He's a prince, and his my father?"  
  
"Yes," Frank said, a little disappointed they hadn't just gone along with Mia's plan. He didn't mind if she thought of him as her father. "And that makes you a princess."  
  
"So I didn't just dream it? Awsome!"  
  
This reaction surprised them. Something must've gone terribly wrong in the accident... the real Mia would have been upset, throwing one horrendous tantrum... something along those lines. The fact that she was pretty much a blank slate, because of memory loss probably helped the idea become much more acceptable. After all, it was a part of her past that she just had to relearn.  
  
"So when do I get to go shopping?" she asked eagerly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well, I can't go out there looking like this," she said motioning to her hospital gown.  
  
"Go where?"  
  
"To rule my gigantic, wealthy, country!"  
  
"Mia... you don't get to rule anything until both your grandmother and your father are dead," Frank said.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Genovia's population is only about 80,000," Michael added.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"You can't go shopping," Helen finished.  
  
"Well this just sucks." Mia crossed her arms and pouted.  
  
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I hope you enjoyed the randomness of it all as much as I did, if you didn't... well, than stop reading the story because its not gonna change. ... well, not likely to change now. I might do a more serious version later, after R/J. 


	3. If you want to destroy my sweater

Disclaimer: Your mom! In bed! With a burrito, and a side of Spanish rice!  
  
A/N: This can't be good... all I've written for the next chapter is the disclaimer, and I'm already stuck.... For your own personal entertainment, I bring you:  
  
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Later, Michael remained by Mia's side, reading to her. Everything she could possibly want to know about dentistry and tennis. Why can't the hospitals ever have the GOOD magazines? They both wondered silently while feigning interest.  
  
After a while, Michael yawned and looked at Mia expectantly. She was a sleep from the boredom. [Like you should be with this story right now.]  
  
[And than! KA-POW! They all died, and lived happily ever after in Silicon Heaven, with the calculators, the blenders, and Creighton. -- a Red Dwarf reference for those of you who care.]  
  
No. Actually, Michael shook Mia gently, whispering her name.  
  
"Nnnn," she said.  
  
Must be French, he thought, and continued to shake her.  
  
"Wha--?" she asked sleepily.  
  
"Were you serious about shopping?" Michael asked.  
  
Mia giggled, there was a booger hanging out of his nose. "Michael, go like this." Mia brushed her own nose. Michael followed suite, and whoops! There went the booger, a small scream could be heard as it plunged to its death in an ocean of sheets.  
  
Michael watched, disinterested.  
  
"No, I just really wanted an excuse to get out of here," Mia answered. Finally.  
  
"I'll be your excuse, any day," Michael said mischeviously.  
  
"Aw! Michael, that's definitely not the sweetest thing you've ever said to me! But I'll still love you anyway!" And she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek.  
  
He hugged, and kissed her back. Pulling the I.V. [is this right?] out of her arm.  
  
"Ouch."  
  
"Don't worry, we'll get some really food into you, like rocky road ice cream." [can't you tell I've got an infatuation with rocky-road ice cream?]  
  
He slipped his arms underneath her and picked her up. Trying hard not to let his mind focus on the fact that her gown had an opening in the back. And as she was pressed against him (his own doing,) she wore no bra. Just her Princess Amidila(?) underwear that he thought so cute.  
  
He set her gently down in a conveniently placed wheelchair. They were, of course, conveniently alone, to make their convenient escape.  
  
Michael ducked his head out the door, the hallway, again, was conveniently empty. How convenient.  
  
He rolled Mia into the hallway, and than realized, he had no real clothes to offer her. He blushed, his mind wandering into the gutter, thinking of what she was wearing. Or rather, what she *wasn't* wearing.  
  
The wheel chair rolled backwards into the room at Michael's insistent pull, and Mia's instant protestations.  
  
"Mia, take my shirt," Michael said removing it. He flashed his beautiful stomach at her, but than pulled down his wife-beater. [Wife-beater? White- beater? Can't remember... its that white under-shirt/tank thing.]  
  
Glancing around the room, Michael spotted a small wardrobe he hadn't noticed before. [Not clothes, the storage thing.] It was brown, fake wood. All in all, quite despicably ugly. But just incase, Michael opened it up, to find one last pair of scrub-pants.  
  
"Put these on," he said and turned around.  
  
Mia did as she was bid, and left her old hospital gown lying on a chair.  
  
Michael checked the hallway again. Still there was conveniently, no one. Even the receptionist's desk across from Mia's room was abandoned. Though Michael did think he spotted a remnant or two of a possible party. Unless silly string, confetti, and party hats are daily necessities of a nurse.  
  
But wherever the nurses were, Michael was thankful as he pushed her out and sprinted towards the elevator.  
  
"Wheeee!" Mia whispered excitedly.  
  
[aaaaand here, I've got an idea. Good bye!]  
  
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(And yes, in English, humor can be "dry", thank you, that was probably the best compliment anyone can give me. I love things with dry humor.) 


	4. Nothing left for you to do

Disclaimer: the usual.  
  
A/N: I'm sorry its taken so long. I'm alive, really, I am. But I'm also extremely busy at the moment.  
  
There are two chapters left in R/J. Because I was having troubles writing the next one, I started writing the very last one first. Sort of working backwards. (Literally, I wrote the very very last paragraph first, than the paragraph before that... and so on.) Now, the last chapter is almost done, but obviously, I can't update until I get the next chapter done first.  
  
I'm working on it when I can.  
  
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But wherever the nurses were, Michael was thankful as he pushed her out and sprinted towards the elevator.  
  
"Wheeee!" Mia whispered excitedly.  
  
Michael skidded to a halt in front of the elevators and pounded on the "down" button. Mia slid forward to take up the abuse of the elevator button when Michael stopped.  
  
"Michael was reading to her last time we were in there," Mr. G. said. "I'm sure their fine."  
  
He was walking with Phillipe and Helen towards the room where Mia no longer was. Michael and Mia looked at each other and than both turned away, hoping to hide their familiar faces.  
  
Bing. The elevator doors slid open slowly. Michael stepped in as soon as there was enough room, dragging Mia's wheel chair behind him.  
  
As the doors closed, they knew they wouldn't get very far. Shouts could be heard from behind them, what sounded like dozens of feet came pounding towards the elevator shaft.  
  
"I think our escape will be short lived," Michael said.  
  
"It was fun while it lasted," Mia sighed  
  
"Yeah, all thirty seconds of it."  
  
"Next time, Michael. Next time, it will be much longer."  
  
And, as they expected when the door opened about two dozen anxious faces stared at them. Including one disapproving look of Grandmére.  
  
"Going somewhere, Amelia?" she rasped in French.  
  
"No, of course not Grandmére." Mia tried to smile smugly, but it wasn't working very well. "I simply asked Michael to take me for a tour around the hospital.  
  
"Right. How about you take a tour back up into your room," Grandmére growled as the doors again. They hadn't even had a chance to get off the elevator.  
  
"Next time," Michael said quietly.  
  
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ttfn! 


	5. Blue mushrooms in a field of hay

**Disclaimer: the usual.  
  
A/N: Its at the bottom.**  
  
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Mia glared at Grandmére as she was wheeled back to her room. "Its not as if I want to be a princess anyway."  
  
"Mia," her father said warningly.  
  
"What?! Its true! I woke up in this hospital, with no memory of any of you but Michael. And suddenly you tell me I am a princess. The only reason why I believe you crazy psychos is because Michael hasn't told me yet it's a lie. Which by the way Michael, any minute now would be good."  
  
They froze in front her room. Mia looked at all of them nonchalantly. Mr. G looked poised and ready to sprint to the emergency exits at any signs of Clarisse exploding. Helen had "O-M-G I'm shocked!" written on her face, but Mia could see in her eyes she was secretly please Mia had said what was on her mind. Michael's expression was blank, he was always so hard for Mia to read. Her father on the other hand, was starting to turn on untimely shade of violent violet, but Mia was sure he would recover. As for Grandmére... well, Mia could practically see the steam coming out of her ears. She was pissed. Royally pissed. [a/n: ooooh! that's bad...]  
  
"Amelia Renaldo. I have had enough of your childish behavior. First you run away to avoid tedious duties you knowingly created obligations to. Secondly, you steal a motorcycle you cannot drive and then you get into an accident and dare to blame your current dilemma on me?! How dare you! It was your immature att—"  
  
The scene froze completely. Grandmere's face was horribly distorted into a wrinkled mass that the REAL Mia could not help find completely humorous.  
  
You see, the REAL Mia wasn't in a hospital, and she didn't have memory loss. No, she was actually sitting on the coach with her lovely boyfriend Michael Moscovitz laughing her head off. Lilly was nearby beaming.  
  
She had finally finished editing her version of Mia's life-story-movie. It was a Friday night, just after quarter tests were over and Michael was home from college for the weekend.  
  
Despite working on the movie for months, no one had been allowed to see what was filmed. Mia, Michael, Lilly and all their friends had just played themselves. Helen and Mr. G, in their few scenes were also self-played. But Mia thought perhaps the best part of the movie was the disgruntled, disheveled old hobo-woman they had picked off a corner a few blocks away from the village to play Grandmére. (They agreed to buy her lunch every weekend during the taping.)  
  
"So?" Lilly asked.  
  
"Okay, Lil'. You did it," Michael admitted. "Not only is it completely pointless, but it better represents the real Mia Thermopolis then any thing else. And the taping isn't half bad."  
  
"Well duh! I am still fully her best friend, who else would know her best."  
  
Mia smiled and squeezed Michael's hand. "Fat Louie."  
  
"Mia, I know you love Fat Louie, but an animal that cannot verbally communicate with you does not qualify as being your best friend."  
  
"Why not? He doesn't need to verbally communicate to understand me, Lilly. Besides he isn't my best friend. He just knows me best."  
  
"So a cat knows you better than I do?" Michael asked skeptically.  
  
"Well, I can't exactly tell you my deepest darkest secrets."  
  
"Do you have any deep dark secrets?" he asked teasingly.  
  
"Of course she does! And this movie reveals them all!" Lilly interrupted.  
  
"Seriously Lil'," Michael said, shooting Lilly a look. "There isn't anything your hiding, is there Mia?"  
  
"Of course not!"  
  
"Good we can watch the rest of the movie than," Lilly said grumpily.  
  
"I don't know. I kind of like the way Grandmére LuAnn's face is twisted so disgustingly." Michael chuckled. [a/n: LuAnn is the old hobo-woman they picked up off the street.]  
  
"Its kind of creeping me out," said Mia.  
  
"So we finish watching it then," Lilly concluded.  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Double Fine."  
  
"Triple Fine."  
  
"Quadruple Fine!"  
  
"Stop!" Michael shouted. "Just press play, will you?"  
  
"Fine!" Lilly said grinning at Mia.  
  
==THE END!==

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I could have gone on forever with that, its just a bit ridiculous don't you think? And a very crappy ending. But I needed to finish this random little... thing.  
  
Review if you want... bye!


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